


A Picture Tells a Thousand Words

by emmaturity



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, haunted by the ghosts of his past, how does one tag, john is distracted, poor bby john, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:26:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaturity/pseuds/emmaturity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock is forward and John is confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Picture Tells a Thousand Words

Sherlock smiled. A slow, languid stretch of lips. John stared up at him for a moment, suddenly aware of all the time that had gone by. Once, John had every quirk of Sherlock Holmes's face memorized. He had known the meaning behind every tilt of his head, every squint of his eyes. He knew that face in the thrill of the hunt, the depths of despair and even (once) confusion. But this? This smile? It was something entirely new. So much had changed about Sherlock since the fall and this expression--cocky, playful, sensual-even--was just another line on an ever-growing list. And John was resigned. He would have to learn the art of Sherlock all over again, one line at a time.

And there it was. This brand new smile. The smile that took John off-guard. That made something dangerous in his stomach turn. "You missed me. Yeah, that's right. I saw you go to visit my grave every day. Admit it."

Suddenly John was back on that dreary patch of land. The one drenched in pretty flowers to disguise an ugly truth. He was alone again amongst a thousand bodies. And Sherlock had been watching? For how long? Had he seen John break? John screaming at the marble, cursing the empty plot before him? John pleading for Sherlock to come back. For everything to be a sham, a cover, anything at all just to have his best friend with him again? He would analyze the cracks in the headstone for any sign that Sherlock was alive. He would feel the ground beneath his palms as nature stretched back over, slowly inching in to cover the mar that Sherlock left on this earth. But the emotional pain went deeper and it could not be forgotten. He must not have seen the point where John stopped taking that twenty minute commute down to the Memorial Gardens just to stare at a stone and watch it degrade.

Sherlock couldn't have known. He appeared to be truly pleased, however much he chided, and John didn't have the heart to tell him that it wasn't quite true. So John shrugged and stared helplessly across the suffocating space between them, something he'd been doing far more often since Sherlock returned. And that smile, so new and full of potential, still loomed at him, invaded his mind and his space until everything was Sherlock, _Sherlock_ , like it used to be. God, how he missed this. The observation of this beautiful man in front of him and that brand new smile, pressing forward and onward until no space was left to breathe. And as John filed away this smile under "Mysteries Solved" he felt that smile press against his own.

Sherlock would be the death of him. But at least then they'd be even.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first-ever fic. Written very hastily at 2am because I had an idea and I've been wanting to write something for a while. I know it's short but if you could leave a review that would be awesome.


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